


Not a Bad Day

by burnthepasttotheground



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, basically everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthepasttotheground/pseuds/burnthepasttotheground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark gets better at handling Roger's depression. Also, Roger takes forever to figure out he's in love with Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> The title is an unintentional reference to "The Office," but I think it's actually kind of appropriate.

It was a bad day. Roger had figured a while ago that that was the best way to deal with these gloomy spells; he chalked it up to a bad day and he started again tomorrow. It wasn’t exactly the “no day but today” credo that the rest of the clan lived by, but it was the best he could do. At least he had learned to start fresh the next day. There was a time when he would have wallowed in his depression continually, never trying to break free of its grasp. He liked to think he’d made progress from the way he used to be.

Despite his progress, he still felt like complete and utter shit today. What had made it a bad day? He couldn’t pinpoint a reason. He’d woken up around ten, just in time to kiss Mark goodbye before he left for work at the coffee shop. That was pretty typical. He’d fooled around with his guitar for a few hours, finally coming up with a bridge for that song he’d been working on for the last three weeks. That was better than typical. Good, even. Then he’d spent a solid hour trying to read the copy of yesterday’s newspaper which Mark always brought home with him. Eventually he’d given up and let his mind wander freely, since it wouldn’t allow him to concentrate anyway.

Sometime after that the feeling had hit him. He didn’t know why. One moment he’d been pondering whether his song would sound better on an acoustic or electric guitar and the next he was filled with that indescribable feeling of hollowness and melancholy and loneliness all at the same time and all throughout his body. He decided not to let his mind wander anymore, since it wouldn’t lead anywhere pleasant, and picked up his guitar. His fingers automatically played Musetta’s Waltz without a thought. He stopped plucking and opted to play something which required more of a mental presence. Thus, he wound up playing “Your Eyes” for the first time in over a year. He got halfway through before emotion overcame him and he decided to get in bed to try to sleep off the bad feeling.

So he lied in bed, willing himself to stop thinking and fall asleep. After half an hour he was still wide awake and feeling completely wretched. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. He took a couple deep breaths before his eyes welled up with unwanted tears. Thoroughly pissed off at himself now, Roger wiped his eyes. But the sudden and unwelcome tears kept flowing. Eventually he gave in and spent a long while quietly sobbing. It was a very bad day.

Finally, he cleared his vision and checked the clock on the nightstand. It was six o clock. Mark would be home soon. He didn’t want Mark to see him like this. He knew from experience that his boyfriend hated to see him unhappy, and he hated to disappoint his boyfriend, so he went into the bathroom to get himself together.

He sat on the toilet with his head in his hands for a couple minutes before getting up to wash his face. The cold water woke him up a little, as desired, and he wiped it off with a towel. His eyes were a little red, but otherwise he thought he looked normal. He was ready to face Mark.

Apparently Mark had come home while he was in the bathroom because he was greeted from the kitchen table as he walked out of the restroom.

“Hey, Rog,” Mark called warmly across the loft.

“Hey,” his voice cracked a bit.

As he got closer to Mark, he could tell that the filmmaker wasn’t fooled by his clean face. Mark’s warm smile turned into a concerned expression, and he rushed over to Roger.

“Roger, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, and Roger noticed Mark’s quick glance over his arms. Checking for track marks, no doubt. He didn’t blame him. Besides, he saw the flicker of relief in Mark’s eyes when he found nothing.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” _It was just a bad day._ Mark rubbed his hand up and down Roger’s arm, obviously worried about him.

“Come here,” Mark grabbed his hand and led him to the couch. He pulled Roger in so his head was resting on Mark’s chest. “Do you wanna talk?”

“No.” _It was just a bad day._

“Okay.” Roger was glad Mark didn’t insist. He wouldn’t have known how to explain. “Will you at least eat dinner? I got paid today, so there’s real food.”

Roger wasn’t hungry, but he knew he should probably eat something. More than that, he knew Mark wanted him to eat something, so he would. “Yeah.”

Mark got up and walked to the kitchen table. He returned to the couch carrying three paper boxes and some chopsticks. Roger wondered for an instant if other people considered Thai take-out “real food,” but he didn’t question it out loud. They ate in silence for a few minutes, passing the boxes back and forth between them, with Mark eating twice as much as Roger.

After he thought he’d eaten enough to please his roommate, Roger set down a half-empty box on the coffee table and sighed.

“Do you want me to go? If you want to be alone—“ Mark began.

“No. Stay,” Roger cut him off. He knew it was selfish to ask Mark to be with him when he was being such a downer, but he didn’t want to be alone again.

“Okay.” Mark said, and Roger heard the unspoken _of course_ in his voice.

“You can talk,” he told him, resting his head on Mark’s chest again.

Mark pushed Roger off of him for a second and set down the box he’d been eating from. Then he pulled Roger into his chest again and put his arm around him.

Roger felt Mark kiss the top of his head. “About what?”

“Anything. What happened at work?” Roger rarely heard more than brief highlights from Mark’s ventures as a barista.

“Um. Okay, but you’re gonna be bored.”

Roger had closed his eyes. “It’s okay,” he answered.

“Well, I missed the hectic morning crowd today, but you knew that,” Mark started. He continued to take Roger through a play by play of his entire day, but Roger fell asleep somewhere around Mark’s two o clock break.

When he woke up, it was very dark, and Mark’s head had fallen on top of his. He was fast asleep.

“Mark. Marky!” he whispered, nudging Mark’s shoulder gently.

Mark woke up, blinking rapidly.

“Wanna move to the bed?”

Mark nodded sleepily. Roger stood and offered him his hand. Mark followed him to their room, and Roger could hear his feet dragging the whole way. They climbed clumsily into bed and fell back asleep within seconds.

* * *

 

Mark was still asleep when Roger woke in the morning. He smiled a little at the image of his petite boyfriend peacefully curled up next to him. He turned to read the clock. It was almost ten o clock, and he suddenly realized that he didn’t know when Mark was working today. He was about to wake him up when it dawned on him that if Mark had an early shift today, he was already late, so he let him sleep instead.

He felt a little better than last night. He was determined to make today not a bad day, as if he had any real control. Still, he was going to try. So he resisted the urge to go back to sleep for the rest of the morning and watched Mark instead. It was relaxing, and it gave him something pleasant to focus on. He realized it might be seen as creepy, but he didn’t really care. He was content.

He was so grateful for Mark’s presence last night. It felt like Mark was learning how to deal with him better than he used to. In the past he probably would have pressured him into talking about it, and Roger would have had nothing to say, no way to explain himself. Even though he always meant well, Mark hadn’t always been so helpful on his bad days. He’d been great last night, though.

The filmmaker began to stir next to him, and Roger felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. _Christ, he was cute._ Mark was always talking and nagging and pestering him to take better care of himself; sometimes Roger forgot how adorable he was when he wasn’t worrying about anything. He felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t fair of him to give Mark so many reasons to worry. He tried to push the thought out of his mind.

Luckily, Mark woke up then. “Good morning,” he said, fixing the skewed glasses he’d fallen asleep wearing. “How are you?” he reached out to touch Roger’s arm.

“Better,” he answered, quickly adding, “I didn’t know if you had work, and you were so peaceful—“

“I don’t have any shifts today,” Mark informed him, his thumb rubbing circles on Roger’s forearm.

“Oh. Good,” Roger replied dumbly. _Of course he didn’t._ He would have thought of it. He would have set an alarm. Mark was always thinking.

“I was gonna go outside to film later. Do you wanna come with me?” It was a question, but it was said like a command. Roger knew Mark had probably read in some corny self-help book that being outdoors was good for depression, or something like that. He was completely under Mark’s spell this morning, though, so the thought appealed to him even if he had no actual desire to leave the house.

“Okay,” he answered, and pulled Mark closer to kiss him.

When their lips parted, Mark grinned, “I’m gonna make breakfast.”

“’Kay,” Roger watched as Mark left for the kitchen. He decided to follow him, partly because he was completely enamored with his roommate today and partly in a desperate attempt to keep the loneliness from creeping up on him again.

He sat on the side of the table opposite from where Mark was buttering toast, or rather, bread; they had no toaster. “Hey,” Mark said, setting a piece of “toast” in front of him and turning to grab two cups of coffee. Roger could tell he was pleased to see him out of bed. He might be a pathetic sad sack full of depression, but he _was_ self-aware.

“Hey yourself,” Roger replied as Mark took a seat next to him. He didn’t touch the breakfast Mark had prepared for him.

Mark smiled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you should eat.”

God damned Mark. Always looking out for his health, when all he wanted to do was make out with him. Roger rolled his eyes, and turned to the food in front of him.

“Thank you,” he could hear the smirk in Mark’s voice.

Mark reached across the table for the day-old newspaper and began reading as he sipped his coffee. When Roger had finished most of his breakfast, he asked, “So what’s new?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mark admitted, “I skipped to the comics.”

They grinned at each other for a brief moment before Roger leaned in to kiss Mark. They didn’t break apart until Roger had completely run out of breath and had no choice but to stop.

Mark kissed his cheek, “Finish eating.” Roger let out a comical whimper and turned back to his food. “There’s a swap meet happening today. Maybe we should go there.”

“Wherever you want,” Roger responded, trying to sound flexible rather than apathetic. He swallowed the last of his food and turned back toward Mark, trying to get his attention. As he reached out to cup his cheek, Mark stood up.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

“But... _Mark_ ,” Roger sputtered.

“But what, Roger?” Mark teased. “But you wanted to make out first?”

_Thank you._ He knew Mark couldn’t have been that dense. He gave him a look as if to say, _duh._

Mark giggled, “Come here.” He pulled Roger out of his seat and toward the couch.

* * *

 

“Do you want your glasses?” Roger asked a while later. They had been laying on the couch silently for a minute or two.

“Yes, please.”

Roger reached his free arm toward the coffee table, where he’d set Mark’s glasses when they had gotten in the way. His other arm was wrapped around Mark, whose head rested on his chest much like Roger’s head had rested on Mark’s the night before. He tried and failed to put Mark’s glasses on his face for him with his one free hand.

Mark sat up laughing, and fixed his glasses properly. “Thanks.”

Roger stared up at him contently and reached his hand up to stroke Mark’s arm.

Mark sighed, “We have to go soon if we want to make it to the swap meet.”

“’Kay.” He still wasn’t keen on leaving the house, but if Mark was leaving then he would, too. Mark stood up. “Hey, Mark?”

“Yeah?” Mark turned back toward the couch.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Roger thought it was obvious, but Mark looked genuinely perplexed.

“Last night. It was good.” He wished he could have been more articulate. Mark still looked confused. “Never mind,” he conceded.

“Okay,” Mark replied, “Get ready, let’s get out of here.”

Roger took a deep breath and rose from the couch.

* * *

 

They arrived at the swap meet a couple hours before it was scheduled to close. As they walked up and down the aisles, Roger wondered why Mark thought this was worth filming. All he saw was a messy cluster of buyers and sellers, all struggling to get by in this cruel and unfair world. Disheartening is what it was.

Mark had been right to drag him outdoors, though. The brisk fall air felt good on his face, and the feeling that had overcome him yesterday subsided until it just barely lingered in the back of his mind. Plus, it didn’t hurt to watch his boyfriend completely in his element, filming and interviewing the shoppers.

Roger tried to keep up with the interviews, but he just didn’t have the attention span today, so he focused on Mark instead. He’d always been impressed with Mark’s ambition, and it was nice to see him working on his own stuff again. Sometimes he felt like Mark’s customer service job got the best of him. The determination the filmmaker had once possessed had been drained by the harsh reality of capitalism. But today Mark was inspiring. He was present and excited and even polite to everyone he interviewed. Roger was jealous. Not really _jealous_. He was happy for Mark, and he was happy watching Mark. He just wished he had the passion and drive that Mark had. He’d never _really_ had it, as much as he liked to tell himself that he had. He tried not to let it bother him, though. If he didn’t have what it took, then at least his boyfriend did.

Eventually the swap meet closed, and the vendors packed up and left. Mark was nearly out of film anyway. “How are you feeling? Do you need to go home?”

“Fine,” Roger replied. “I’m all yours, Cohen.”

Mark smiled his adorable Mark smile, and Roger would have kissed him if he wasn’t afraid of the consequences. He wasn’t embarrassed; in all honesty, he actually was scared to kiss Mark here. They liked to think their part of town was pretty progressive, but Mark and Roger had lived with Collins long enough to know that it wasn’t exactly a utopia.

“Alright. Well, we need groceries.”

“Let’s go then.”

* * *

 

A few hours later they returned home, groceries in tow. They had taken their time in getting to the supermarket. Roger knew he had slowed Mark down once they got there, too, but Mark didn’t seem upset about it, so he didn’t feel too bad. They walked over to the table and set down the bags.

Mark grabbed the lapels of Roger’s jacket. “Come here.” He kissed him slowly and sweetly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Why?” he responded, pleased that he’d finally gotten his kiss.

“For being outside with me all day. You can’t fool me, Roger, I know you didn’t want to come.” Roger gaped at Mark. He thought he’d put on a good show. He probably had put on a good show, he decided, it was just because it was _Mark_. He could have fooled anyone else. He would have. “Also, AZT,” Mark added as he turned back to the table to unload the groceries.

“Well, I’m glad I went, anyway,” he said, and swallowed the pill.

“I’m glad, too,” Mark continued putting food away. “Hey, what do you want to eat? I’ll leave it out.”

Roger shrugged, “Don’t care. Whatever you’re having.” He finished taking the food out of the bags and left it for Mark to put in the cupboards. He walked over to the couch and flopped onto it. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“Nothing, really. I wanted to watch the footage we got today before I edit it, but that might bore you.”

“Sounds good,” Roger could handle the boredom if it meant he got to spend the rest of the night snuggled up to his boyfriend on the couch.

“Ham or bologna?”

“What?”

“To eat.”

“Oh. Bologna.” Roger felt guilty that Mark had basically fed him every meal for the past two days, so he called over his shoulder, “Relax, Mark, I can do it.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m halfway done.”

“Fine.” He sank back into the couch. He reached behind his head, next to the armrest, for his guitar, and started plucking away. A few minutes later, Mark strode over to him, handed him a sandwich and set another one on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Marky!” he had to call across the loft, since Mark had immediately turned and headed toward their bedroom.

He returned carrying a folded blanket, and tossed it to Roger. “Here. It’s getting cold.”

“Okay, Mom,” he replied, only slightly annoyed at Mark babying him. Mark was quiet in response. It was an uncomfortable silence. Roger sighed, “Sorry.”

“I’m not trying to infantilize you, Roger, I’m just trying—“

Roger could tell where this was going, and he really didn’t want to have this conversation today.

“I know, I’m sorry, Mark. Thank you.” He put his arm around Mark and felt the tension leave his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better tonight,” Mark said kindly.

Roger kissed the top of Mark’s head. “What are we waiting for? Let’s watch your boring interviews!”

“Shut up,” Mark chuckled, standing to set up the projector. “ _Eat,_ ” he pointed to Roger’s untouched sandwich.

“Okay, okay.” He ate while Mark hooked up the projector. “Maybe I’ll be able to pay attention this time around.”

Mark looked at him quizzically. “You were standing _right_ there.”

“Would you believe I was distracted by the cameraman?” Roger asked innocently.

“Distracted by _something_ ,” Mark mumbled as he finished preparing the film. He started it up and went to sit next to his boyfriend.

Roger was feeling well enough to make snide commentary on Mark’s interviewing skills throughout the screening. He was careful not to mock his camera work, though. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t a _bad person_.

Two hours later, Roger recognized the lady on the screen as the last person Mark had spoken to. He expected the film to end after that, but it kept rolling for a few seconds, and he suddenly saw his face on the screen, looking almost directly into the camera.

“Close on Roger,” came Mark’s voice, “who thinks I’m filming something behind him.” The shot lingered on his face for a moment, before Mark had apparently lowered his camera and stopped filming. The projector went dark after that.

“I forgot that was on there,” Mark declared matter-of-factly.

“Well, I guess you found your first cut,” Roger said. He was both annoyed and flattered that Mark had wasted precious film on him. Mostly he was embarrassed that he’d been caught on camera giving Mark that stupid lovey-dovey look.

“Maybe,” Mark said sleepily, burying his head in Roger’s chest.

He nudged him. “Hey, why don’t we get in bed before we fall asleep tonight?”

“Wow, great idea, Roger. You come up with that on your own?” Mark asked sarcastically. Roger didn’t take it personally, though. Mark was usually kind of grumpy when he was tired.

“Come on. Let’s go,” he pulled Mark off the couch and grabbed the blanket before making his way to the bedroom behind his drowsy boyfriend. He wasn’t tired at all, so he prepared himself for a lonely night lying awake. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. He could handle it.

“G’night,” Mark mumbled as he curled up under the sheets.

“Good night, Marky.” At least he got to see adorable sleeping Mark twice in one day. He lied on his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to Mark’s steady breathing. When, a few minutes later, Mark reached for him in his sleep, he smiled and moved closer to him. Mark wound up with his hand gripping Roger’s forearm, which Roger was okay with.

He stared at the ceiling for a while longer, enjoying Mark’s peaceful presence next to him, when all of a sudden— _Fuck._

“Mark,” he hissed. He had to tell him right now. He hadn’t paused to consider the option of waiting until morning. “Mark!”

“Hmm?” Mark groaned.

“Wake up!”

Mark sat up. “Roger, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” he pulled Mark into his chest and took a deep breath, “I love you.”

“ _That’s_ why you woke me up? Roger, I _know._ I love you, too.” He closed his eyes and rested his head on Roger’s shoulder.

“No! Mark, I’m in love with you.” Roger had only just figured this out himself. There was no way Mark already knew.

Mark sighed and sat up again, looking Roger in the eyes. “I know,” he gave him a quick kiss, “I’m in love with you, too.”

“How did you know? _I_ didn’t even know!” This was definitely not the reaction he’d expected.

Mark shrugged. “It was kind of obvious. I was waiting for you to say it first, just in case I was wrong.”

Roger sighed in frustration.

Mark laughed, “I’m sorry, Rog, I kinda thought you knew. I mean, you saw the film.”

“Well, I didn’t know.”

“Does it help that I’m in love with you, too?” Mark grinned.

“A little.”

Mark curled into Roger’s chest again, “I’m sorry I was rude to you when you confessed your love. Good night, Roger.”

“Good night, Mark.” He stared at the ceiling again, trying to will himself to sleep. If he wanted tomorrow to not be a bad day, he should at least start off well-rested. He looked at Mark’s sleeping figure again, Mark who was _in love with him_ , and found himself at peace for the first time in a while. He drifted asleep to the sound of his boyfriend's breathing.


End file.
